Secret Letter To Klaus: A Poem Time Capsule For My Son, In November 2011

Beware the overcast short day my boy

In this world, when there's little light, it can be the most cursory of black holes

Except you my little one year old friend, somehow

You are an infinitely glowing zenith, you are

All the suns whirling around the center of the Milky Way

I hope you don't make the mistakes I made, though

You may

I wish for you better decisions than those I've made, though

You may not

You don't need to be President, a Doctor, Lawyer, Dentist or

Any sort of societal success, though

You must always stand up for poor people and

Stand up to the bullies of this world, sincerely

Be a couch surfer, I wish for you the heart of my hobo friend

Be strong, achieve good medicine, achieve good spirit

Embrace and reflect failings, forgive

With all your being, but don't let them berate you with their lies

Over and over and over again, stand against those kinds

Today we watched your little bear claws grab the kitchen table

Then you tumbled, you

Fell, then cried and cried

Your mother, your sister and me, we wish

We could stop it, confounded gravity, and confounded hate, and the mean

Countenance of cheap wealth

You sprang up each time though, from

Your fall, you shook the anger off, the tears flew

Away from us all, and your resilience inspires your kin, son

You give us will and a hidden spring of hope

Be very kind, be gentle to women, be honest with your work, grow

Those muscles my boy, grow that Basal Ganglia grow

That Occipital Lobe but by God, retain your essence man, shelter

Those friends and family as you can

We have sequestered a few items in your heart, unbeknownst

To you Klausy

A few kisses from your ma and I, while

You whistled quietly breathing our air while you dreamt of wild grapes, an everlasting

Hug from Isabella India too

I put my loud, bellowing voice in there, but don't take it out unless

You really have to, be pleasant, be extroverted, be polite

We, us three, put a strange diamond in there, not the type

You might put on a beauties finger one day no

The industry kind, the poetic kind of diamond that can cut

Deep through sandstone strata of adversities purveyors, cut deep

Through false leaders decorated hubris, use it again only

If you must

Be kind my son, be strong, don't believe the wealthy wicked, find

Believe in the rich at heart, the platinum altruism that is no material but is

A gentle hand, that shades those burned by this worlds heat